Secret Rush: Discovered
by LIFE the RANGER
Summary: This is a short one shot I've come up with at two/three in the morning. Logan has a problem with cutting himself. What will happen when a certain blonde boy spends the night? Rated T for swearing and other scenes. Please let me know what you think. I'm thinking of extending the story.


_Okay it's 2 am so if this sucks let me know_

…

Logan's POV

…

I closed my eyes as I ran the razor up the length of my arm, right up to my elbow. Even if it hurt, it felt like such a rush. Of course, no one knew about my secret addiction, not even my parents. They were both doctors, you see, so if I told them they'd either a) rush me to the hospital and get my stitched up or b) check me into the nearest mental facility and wrap me in a straightjacket in a padded room. I set the razor back on the counter, not even bothering to wash off my blood. This was my own personal bathroom. My parents never came in here, so I didn't need to worry about them seeing anything unnecessary. I watched the scarlet blood run freely down my arms and drip in the sink. I closed my eyes again in ecstasy. This was my drug; I was addicted to afflicting pain to myself.

It first came around when I was about ten. I had joined junior hockey at my parents' request. Someone (then a tiny, terror filled Kendall) had run into my back. I'd landed awkwardly, breaking my arm. But they strangest thing was, I never cried. My parents were hysterical, hugging me tight and trying to bundle me into the car, but I told them I wanted to keep playing. I had a hard tolerance for pain I guess. I kind of liked it then. I love it now.

"Logan?" I heard my dad's voice._ Shit_, I thought, scrambling to pick up all the evidence of my proceedings.

"Yeah dad?" I called, quickly wiping off my arms and tugging my shirtsleeves over my arms until they covered my palms. Rule one when you cut your wrists on a daily basis; sleeves are a necessity, keep them handy at all times. Just in time. Without knocking, my dad swung the door open. I grinned something that I hoped resembled a genuine grin and waved slightly. "What's up?" I asked casually, resisting the urge to look at my newly cut arms.

"Your mother got worried. You've been in here for awhile." He gave me a once over. Luckily for me (a fifth or sixth generation genius) I'd showered before I began my nightly ritual. So he took notice of my wet, spiked up hair, nodded once, and turned to report to my mom. "Oh, by the way," he called over his shoulder. "Your mother invited Kendall over for the night." I groaned audibly as he sauntered off down the hall.

"Fuck," I swore softly under my breath. I rolled my sleeves up and looked at my arms. I picked up my washcloth and started scrubbing. Kendall could not, under any circumstances, see my wrists. As one of my oldest and closest friends (and even a little more than a friend), it would be horrible if he found out. I pulled my sleeves back down. So much for my rush.

"Kendall, how good it is to see you!" my mom gushed, indicating Kendall had indeed arrived. I ran down the hall to my room, dove into my bed, and pulled the covers over my head. I heard the door creak open. "Oh, I guess he's out," my mom said. She closed the door and I heard Kendall's footsteps approach the bed.

"You're such a faker," he said, tickling my sides. I tried not to react, but finally he got the better of me and I laughed and wiggled around, trying to escape his hands. "I knew it," he said, laughing. "Scoot your cute ass over, I'm coming in." I slid over and made enough room for him to slide under the covers. As excited as I was about this moment, I was über nervous about it as well. If things got too…intense…and he ran his hands up my arms _under _my sleeves…well I was none to happy.

"Hey babe," I finally whispered after a few awkward moments. He twisted his face, and I couldn't help but grin. He hated that nickname, and I knew it. I just used it to piss him off. He finally rearranged his face into a more pleasant smile and wrapped his arms around me, which was a little weird since I was the older one (though in a cruel twist of fate he was about five inches taller than I was). He began to rub circles on my back, and I practically purred. This was my other ecstasy, I found out then. His arms began to drift to my arms, and in a half sleep state, I swatted them away and stood up.

"What's wrong Logie?" he asked, using his pet name for me, so I knew he was concerned. If he weren't, he wouldn't have called me Logie. I shook my head to reassure him it was nothing he had done. In fact, I'd quite enjoyed the close contact with him. I just didn't want him to find out about my nighttime rush.

"Nothing babe," I said to get his mind off of it. But this time he wasn't so easily deterred. He kept staring at me until I began to wiggle under his intense gaze. "Don't worry about it okay," I pleaded, finally breaking.

"Logie," he said slowly, sitting up. "Something is wrong. Did you hurt your arm again?" I smirked at that. So he did remember when he caused me to break my arm when I was ten. That is what actually caused our friendship. He admired me for not crying when it had broken. But now, it wasn't broken, just a bit cut up. He reached for my sleeves. I couldn't let him find my scars, figure out my rush, so I did something drastic. I leaned over and kissed him. He froze for just a second, and then returned it. I gently pushed him back until I was lying on top of him and we were getting so into it. I removed his shirt and began to undo his pants when…

"Logie," Kendall breathed. "What happened?" I felt chills traveling up my spine as he ran his fingers over my cuts and scars. "Oh baby," he whispered. "Has someone been doing things to you?" He'd thrown the blanket off and was now examining the rest off me, a job made easy when I was only in my boxers at this point.

"No Kendall," I said. "I use a razor to cut myself. It's my secret rush." It felt good to finally admit it, though since it was Kendall I couldn't really enjoy the moment. Kendall kept staring at me, and for the second time that night I found myself wiggling under his intense gaze. He finally grabbed my wrist and turned my arm over, turning on my bedside lamp to study my cuts more intensely. I sucked in my breath.

"Logie this is a serious problem," he finally said, lowering my arm. "You should think about counseling." I lowered my gaze to my tan sheets. I couldn't look him in the eye right now. I felt ashamed at my rush; ashamed that Kendall had found out. I never wanted him to; never wanted anyone to. I sighed finally and nodded slightly. "Logan…I don't think we should be together while you are in this state. You can talk to me once you're on the rode to recovery." And just like that, he got up, kissed my forehead once, and left.


End file.
